


Exploring Physical Empathy

by Thuri



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thuri/pseuds/Thuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things may be different, now, but Charles is determined not to let that stop him from enjoying his time with Erik.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exploring Physical Empathy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [i_know_its_0ver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_know_its_0ver/gifts).



> Set after the movie, in an AU where it all still happened, but has since been made right. As per always written for and therefore beta'd by i_know_its_0ver

Charles had always enjoyed the finer things in life, and clothes were no exception. He dressed well, he dressed to show himself off--short he might be, but there was no need to dwell on it, not when he was slim and well formed, and a bespoke suit could be cut to enhance his strengths and minimize his flaws.

The fabrics had always been very important, as well. Cool, crisp linens, starched cottons, smooth silks, fine merino wools...the best that money could buy.

After his injury, Charles became even _more_ determined to dress well. The elegant cut of a suit tailored specifically around the necessity of sitting down did much to give him back the edge the wheelchair cost him in his dealings with others. And at least now no one could tell he _wasn't_ tall.

As if to make up for the area below his waist, where sensation had turned spotty and distant at best, nonexistent at worst, he'd noticed an increase in the sensitivity of his skin above. A fact that made the choice of fabric that much more important.

The suit he wore tonight was of a very fine wool, smooth and soft beneath his fingertips. The dress shirt and tie were both silk, the former a soft blue that matched his eyes, the latter a deeper, darker navy. They went well with the suit, and he knew it.

He knew Erik had known it, as well, the moment Charles had opened the door. His eyes had widened, his tongue had--just barely--traced along his bottom lip, and his cheeks had flushed. That alone would've been enough, but the wave of aroused approval echoing from his mind had been enough to redden Charles's cheeks as well.

Dinner had been an exercise in restraint, for the both of them. Charles couldn't have repeated their conversation, though he knew they'd spoken, and at length. Nor could he say for certain what he'd eaten, only that there'd been food on his plate at the beginning of the meal, and none at the end. All he truly remembered was the brightness of Erik's eyes, the warm, accidental touches of his fingers, passing the bread, meeting against the butter. The happy, anticipatory contentment of his mind.

They had traveled far, to come to this. To see each other's points of view, to examine their own convictions, to reach a middle ground. To see that they did both, as Erik had said a lifetime ago on the beach, want the same thing. And that that desire was not quite what either man had thought it would be, filled with the burning arrogance and pain of youth.

Perhaps they were not so much older now in years, but they'd both gained wisdom--and humility--in the aftermath of the beach. Of the crisis that had nearly driven them apart forever.

But now...now they had this. A partnership, once more. The school, thriving under their joint care. And the rediscovery of the love--and heat--between them, that they'd both feared lost.

But tonight, one in a long succession of actual _dates_ they'd allowed themselves, was yet more proof that it was _anything_ but lost.

Slightly tipsy--tipsy enough for Charles to have twice told Erik he was groovy and for Erik to have laughed and stolen kisses in response--they made their way back into the darkened mansion, Charles shamelessly using his powers to make certain no one saw them in their ridiculous dash for the lift, Erik pushing his chair with the power of his mind alone.

They necked like teenagers in the short time it took the lift to reach the third floor, Erik only reluctantly pulling away from him as it slid open. "Come with me," Charles said, reaching his hand up and squeezing Erik's lightly, drawing it to his mouth to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss against the palm. "I have plans for you tonight."

Outwardly, Erik gave no sign of the affect the words had on him, but Charles felt the sudden, sharp spike of arousal that went through him. "Oh you do?" he asked challengingly.

"I do," Charles replied, smiling into the kiss Erik bestowed upon him. "Or we could stay here..."

No sooner had he spoken the words than his chair again moved beneath him, Erik taking them both down the hallway as fast as he could.

When they arrived, it was a matter of a few moments to get Erik out of his own clothes--the dark, tight slacks and turtleneck jumper he _knew_ Charles preferred on him--and for Charles to gently push his hands away, as Erik tried to remove the telepath's clothing in return. "Not yet," he murmured, giving Erik a gentle push back onto the bed. "I want you to do something for me. Will you?"

"Anything, Charles," Erik promised, his cultured voice turned rough, needy. "Anything..."

"So quick to give yourself over," Charles whispered, almost to himself, reaching out to touch Erik's chest, lightly run his fingers over the strong muscles, the faded scars. The depth of Erik's need had frightened him, the first time they'd lain together. His need to put himself in another's hands, to trust he would be cared for, not hurt...Charles had accepted it without question, then, and he reaffirmed his commitment to the other man now. "Lie back."

Erik settled himself back on the bed, lying down, watching Charles curiously. Charles paused only long enough to fetch two things from the bedside table, dropping them beside Erik. A bottle of slick, and a heavy metal phallus. He let Erik take in the meaning of them for a few moments, before reversing his wheelchair, settling himself back far enough to have a good view of the bed and it's confused occupant. "Touch yourself."

"With you right there?" Erik asked, a flush staining his cheeks, his chest. It still surprised and delighted Charles, just how shy the bigger, stronger man could be.

"That's rather the point, Erik," Charles replied, resting his elbows on the arm rests of his chair, steepling his fingers, resting them against his upper lip. "I want to watch you. Show me how it feels."

Erik's eyes narrowed, then widened, as he caught the double meaning behind Charles's words, as Charles had hoped he would. A flicker of determination pulsed through his arousal, as Charles took a deep breath and settled back, determined to keep his mind to himself. At first.

Erik watched him, for a moment, before apparently deciding he'd better get on with things. Charles didn't read him, not yet. No, he wanted this to start completely blind to Erik's thoughts and sensations.

And so he simply watched, as Erik shifted on the bed, pulling himself up until he was half propped on the pillows, his long, lean legs spread wide, his prick curving up proud and strong. Charles couldn't help a longing sigh at the sight of it, imagining the heavy feel in his mouth, the salt bitter taste of it. His determination nearly faltered.

But he took a deep breath as Erik ran one large hand down his chest, fingers splayed dark against the pale skin of his abdomen. "Can I...?"

"Yes," Charles replied, immediately, his voice more breathy than commanding, despite his efforts. "Yes," he said again, stronger. "Show me. Show me...as if you were touching me," he said, swallowing as the words escaped, strong and steady, giving no clue as to the coiling want in his belly.

Erik froze, his adam's apple bobbing against a swallow of his own. His hands, moving restlessly, roughly over his skin stilled as his eyes closed and a sigh escaped him. When they moved again, it was more slowly, with an obviously softer, gentler touch.

Charles watched, feeling the memory ghost of sensation as Erik's hand slid down his own side, then up, lightly circling his nipple until the flesh rose and puckered. He rolled it between his fingers, then, and Charles inhaled a gasp when he _pinched_ , the sensation shooting through him though Erik was over a meter away.

"Good," he managed, voice far from steady. "Keep going, just like that..."

And, God help him, Erik did. He caressed and teased himself, hands moving in tender, soft motions over his chest, his thighs, but always avoiding the place Charles most wanted them. Erik had long ago opened his eyes and he watched Charles as intently as Charles watched him, the only sounds in the room their quickened breaths.

Each moment opened Erik further to Charles's mind, broke down his defenses. Each moment more bled over, until he could feel Erik's touch as if his lover's skin were his own. He felt Erik's _need_ , felt the desire burning in him, the heavy, ache in his prick. Felt each sensation as though they were his own, felt sensations utterly lost to him now. Except through this.

"Erik," he groaned, wondering who, exactly, was in control now, as Erik kept that challenging gaze on him, torturing Charles as surely as he tortured himself. "Please..."

"You only had to ask," Erik murmured with the ghost of a grin, closing his hand around himself and _stroking_ , from root to tip.

Charles cried out, his link with Erik almost complete now, the sensation cutting through him. It was incredible, so like and unlike it had been, before. The same burn, the same need, but Erik's hands were larger, his prick longer, more curved...and circumcised. The difference between that and Charles's own was enough to add yet another layer to the experience, and he gave into it.

"Is that good, Charles?" Erik asked, his voice in Charles's mind and ears at once. "Tell me..."

"Yes..." Charles realized he was rapidly losing control over the situation, but couldn't seem to care. "Bloody hell, Erik..."

Erik laughed breathlessly, sliding his hand up once more, his thumb flicking across his slit, making Charles groan deeply. "Feel that?"

"Yes..." Charles nodded, wishing now he'd undressed, that he was lying beside Erik, as his fingers clutched the armrests of his chair, knuckles going white as sensations not his own shot through him, overwhelmed him.

And as Erik's hand continued to move, Charles dropped deeper and deeper into his mind, until it was _their_ hand, _their_ prick, _their_ pleasure. He lost track of where he began and ended, and the only thing important was the rising tide within him.

His toes curled, his breath quickened, his thighs prickled as their climax rose within Erik, as one of his hands moved steadily over their prick, the other hefting their balls, until it all crystallized. Crystallized into that one breathless, perfect moment, poised at the top, about to fall over.

The moment before climax, the moment Charles hadn't truly felt in two years.

And, together, they _came_.

Long, wracking spasms rocked Erik's body as he spilled up over his hand, his finish washing through Charles just as strongly as if it had been his own. Each spurt, each twitch, he felt, completely and totally.

Until, at last, he opened his eyes, fingers falling from his temple, though he didn't even remember raising them. He swallowed, mouth dry, knowing his fancy clothing was soaked in sweat.

And, he realized, looking down into his lap, apparently worse. Well well well.

Moments later, Erik's strong fingers lifted his chin, his mouth fit itself over Charles's, and the other man kissed him, deeply. "Did...did it work?" he asked, a shy hesitance in his smile, as he crouched down in front of Charles, taking the younger man's hands in his own.

Charles laughed, softly, and nodded. "All too well, my friend. All too well."


End file.
